


Don't Try This At Home

by Chash



Series: Holiday Fills 2018 [16]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy wasn't expecting to completely lose touch with Clarke after she graduated from college, but he had been a little worried that they wouldn't talk as much once they didn't live in the same place. It's happened with plenty of other people.Luckily, she decides she needs to learn how to cook for herself, and she needs to text him pictures of the results. And, yes, they're horrifying. But at least they're still talking.





	Don't Try This At Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [museumofflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museumofflight/gifts).



_how do people cook_

The sound of the text notification pulls Bellamy away from the papers he's grading, and he rubs his face, trying to figure out what time it is and how long he's been at this. He signed up to TA for a summer term, which was a good idea for his finances and resume, but the professor seems to think of him as nothing but a machine that grades and answers emails, which isn't good for anyone, pedagogically speaking.

He figures out, from studying his phone for a second that, one, he's been grading for three straight hours and, two, Clarke is doing that "not using punctuation makes me look casual" thing again when she texts, even though she doesn't know how to turn off autocorrect, so she has to manually uncapitalize her letters, which is the opposite of casual.

**Me** : Cook what?  
Or are you just wondering how it's possible that people cook?

**Clarke** : both i guess  
i did not do well with dinner

She attaches an image of a very undercooked pork chop covered in what looks like paper mache; he's not sure what she was trying to make, but it's safe to say she didn't make it.

**Me** : I can tell you cooked parts of it

**Clarke** : yeah?  
which parts  
be specific 

**Me** : The part of the meat that isn't pink  
What were you going for?

**Clarke** : artichoke stuffed pork chops

**Me** : For your first meal ever?

**Clarke** : it looked easy!!  
what are you up to?

**Me** : [image]  
Grading for the rest of my life apparently

**Clarke** : aren't summer classes supposed to be easier?  
did I make that up?

**Me** : You did, yeah  
They're shorter and more intense  
And this one is writing intensive so Diyoza has them turning in papers every day  
And has me grading all of them

**Clarke** : good thing you don't have a social life or that would really suck

**Me** : Thanks for understanding  
Did you start the new job yet?

**Clarke** : not yet  
next week  
but this was when i could move into the new place so here i am

**Me** : How much effort are you putting into making your phone not capitalize the letter I

**Clarke** : i'm on my laptop right now so none  
raven said my texting should be more casual if i was going to try online dating 

**Me** : Did she tell you no capitals was casual? I think it's more of a tone thing  
And are you trying online dating?

**Clarke** : trying  
or trying to try i guess  
working on my profile now

**Me** : I don't know why you'd want to be someone you're not in online dating  
If using capitals and punctuation makes someone not to date you, that's a good sign you guys wouldn't be good together  
And plenty of people like following stylistic rules 

**Clarke** : do you have a source on that

**Me** : I do and I'm pretty sure you do  
So that's two  
Also I'm grading right now and I'm struggling not to correct all the errors in your texts

**Clarke** : Oops  
Sorry

**Me** : Why online dating?

**Clarke** : Because it feels like the logical thing  
I've been single for a while, I'm in a new city with no real social group, I don't want to date coworkers  
So if I sign up for an app, I'm at least trying

**Me** : Yeah, that makes sense  
I'm just planning to die alone

**Clarke** : Please  
You cough and people fall over themselves asking if you're single

**Me** : Which is a fetish demographic I don't care about appealing to so yeah  
Dying alone

**Clarke** : [eyeroll]  
At least you can cook

**Me** : I'll send you some easy recipes when I get home  
But yeah for now maybe just order a pizza

**Clarke** : Already done  
[screenshot]  
ETA twenty minutes

**Me** : Good  
Okay, I need to finish this and get dinner too  
But keep me posted on the cooking  
Maybe send me pictures of meat before you eat it so I can approve it

**Clarke** : So if you're away from your phone for a minute I can't eat?

**Me** : Safety first  
I'll send recipes tonight

*

Bellamy met Clarke Griffin the first day of junior year, when they were moving into the dorms. She had the room directly above his, and for the first few weeks they had an ongoing pitched conflict because she was _loud_ and he was trying to study, but then she broke up with her girlfriend who always wore heels. Bellamy made an asshole comment about how her new shoes were a huge improvement, Clarke snapped back that they weren't _her_ shoes, and suddenly they were bonding about being queer--bi in her case, pan in his--and breakups and school, and before he knew it, they were friends, and then best friends, and then one afternoon she smiled at him in the library and he realized he was in love.

In theory, they also should have been finishing college and going into the world at the same time, but he was in the BA-to-MA history program, so he had an extra year at school while Clarke moved home for a couple weeks before finding a job in Boston.

And now she's texting him about cooking fails and online dating and he misses her more than he can stand.

"You could just tell her that," Roan suggests. Roan is in the history PhD program and his mother knows Clarke's mother, which means that he has seen Bellamy and Clarke together for more than ten minutes and therefore knows that Bellamy has a thing for her. That seems to be the standard amount of time it takes people to figure it out. " _I miss you and I want to try long distance_. People do that."

"I'm aware that long-distance relationships are a thing, yeah."

"I couldn't tell if you were aware that relationships were something that you could be involved in, or if you just thought they happened to other people."

"They do just happen to other people," he says. "They're not happening to me."

"Which is shocking, considering you're hung up on a woman you won't talk to and turn down every offer that doesn't come from her. Truly, your singleness is a mystery."

His phone buzzes with a text from Clarke-- _Why are there so many kinds of olive oil? Why do I care how much sex my olives have had? Purity culture is out of control_ \--and he waves the phone at Roan. "We're talking right now."

"I'm just saying, complaining that she's not dating you when you've put zero effort into getting her to date you isn't particularly sympathetic. You could at least try asking her."

_I don't actually know why it's called that but most recipes want extra virgin_ , he texts back quickly, then adds, _How do you not have olive oil?_

"I don't even know what I'm going to be doing after this," he says, turning his attention back to Roan. "If I want to go on to get my PhD or what."

"Because you couldn't possibly get your PhD in Boston."

"I know." He sighs. "I'm not mad she's doing online dating. If she finds someone, I'm not going to be a dick about it. But I'm not going to tell her to wait for me or whatever."

"Are you sure you understand what long distance means?" he asks, dry.

"I'm not ready to tell her yet," he admits. "If that means I miss my chance--" He shrugs. "Then it sucks to be me."

"Not the attitude I'd take, but I suppose I can't stop you. I wouldn't tell you to do this," he adds, "if I didn't think it would end well for you."

"I know." He taps the rim his mug, thinking it over. It's weird, confiding in _Roan_ , of all people, but he's never willing to start conversations about his stupid crush, and Roan's one of the few people who actually asks. So here they are. "I'm waiting to see if it lasts. Maybe with her gone, it'll just go away. And if that happens, I don't want to be dating her when it does."

"There's some logic to that," Roan admits. "Not necessarily _convincing_ logic, but logic nonetheless. Still, if you were dating her, I don't think it would just fade away like that."

"Maybe. Maybe I'll decide I want to tell her."

Roan raises his coffee. "I'm rooting for you."

"Thanks," says Bellamy, with a smile. "Means the world to me."

*

Bellamy is working on his own dinner when his phone buzzes with a picture from Clarke. He was expecting meat, but based on the preview picture it's something else, something much weirder, and the follow-up message doesn't really help.

**Clarke** : Trying something out

**Bellamy** : Yellow rice?

**Clarke** : Gatorade rice

**Bellamy** : What

**Clarke** : I'm making a rice bowl and it wanted me to season with lime juice  
I forgot to buy lime juice but I do have lemon lime gatorade  
So I figured I could just replace the water when I was cooking the rice to get the flavor

Bellamy stares at the words for a second, his brain trying to protect him from the reality of what Clarke has done, but the words burrow in deep and refuse to leave.

He's not sure he's ever called her on the actual phone before, but he's dialing before he can think better of it.

"It doesn't taste that bad!" she says, in lieu of a greeting.

"What the fuck, Clarke."

"What? I've seen Chopped, I know you can substitute things."

"Yeah, but those are people who know how to cook. You're going to burn down your apartment."

"Plus my rice bowl tastes really weird," she agrees. "But it got you to call me. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Summer semester's over, so I'm done with grading for a while."

"Still working at the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, picked up some extra hours. I'm actually making dinner right now."

"Yeah?" she asks, brightening. "What are you making?"

"Nothing very exciting. It's hot so I didn't want to cook and I had some leftover chicken, so I'm making chicken salad."

"How did you learn to cook? I always knew you could, but now that I'm trying to do it myself I really don't get how you got the skillset."

"O's dad was a good cook," he says, trying the chicken salad and adding a little more salt and pepper. "I used to like helping him. After he died, my mom didn't have time to cook, so I took over. He had cookbooks and stuff, but there was definitely a learning curve."

"I think I just don't have the cooking instinct."

"You cooked rice in gatorade, so yeah, I agree," he teases. 

"It could have been really good!"

"Uh huh. The instincts develop," he adds. "You make chicken and figure out what spices you like with chicken, you figure out what tastes good and use more of it."

"You put gatorade in your rice."

"You learn not to do that." He grabs bread and sticks it in the toaster. "Do you have a rice cooker?"

"My roommate does, she said I could borrow it as long as I clean it. I'm going to clean it really well."

"You better. How is she? As a roommate."

He imagines her shrugging in the short pause, can almost see her doing it. "Fine. I honestly don't see her much, we have totally different schedules. Any time we're actually home together we make awkward small talk and then she goes into her room and closes the door."

"Honestly, that could be a lot worse. She could want to be your best friend."

"Yeah, god forbid anyone wanted to be friends with me," she teases.

"How's that going, by the way? The whole friends thing?"

"It's going. I went out for drinks with my coworkers, they're cool."

"Any dates?"

"Not yet. What about you? Still just hanging out with Roan?"

"For now, but once fall semester starts up I'll have other friends."

"Really?"

"Hopefully."

She laughs. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. I wish I was there to keep you from putting gatorade in your rice."

The words seem a little awkward as soon as they're out of his mouth, but Clarke just says, "I wish you were here so you could taste it."

"Never mind, I don't wish I was there anymore. Did you try any of the recipes I sent you?"

"I did the chicken alfredo pasta, it came out pretty well. And I want to do the chili tomorrow. I was going to have it with more of the rice."

"If you eat my chili with gatorade rice, never tell me."

"You can follow my instagram. I think I'm going to be big."

"What is it? _Clarke Cooks Crap_?"

There's a pause. "It wasn't, but it is now."

"You're really going to make that, aren't you?"

"I'm registering as we speak."

"I can't believe I have to sign up for instagram now," he says, with a sigh.

"You don't _have_ to. I'll text you everything."

"Thanks for crossposting for me."

"I know you hate social media." She pauses again, finally says, "I should let you eat."

"Yeah, I should definitely eat. But I'm free tonight if you want to Rabbit something."

"I could definitely watch something. Give me like an hour and I'll text you?"

"Sure, sounds good. Enjoy your rice."

"I'll send you pictures," she says, and he gets one almost as soon as they hang up, Clarke with a big spoonful of yellow rice halfway to her mouth, with the caption _exclusive content not for instagram_.

He sends back a picture of his own sandwich labeled _actually good food_ and grins for the rest of the night.

*

Bellamy never thought much about Clarke and cooking, but if he had, he would have assumed she would be one of those people who followed recipes to a T and googled things like _how much is a splash of olive oil_ to make sure she was measuring out the correct amount.

Instead, every text she sends is something that she seems to have come up with herself specifically to horrify him. When she sends an orange blob with two white eyes, she explains that she couldn't decide between sweet potatoes and regular, so she just mixed them together, setting aside two small balls to serve as the eyes. Which, okay, it's probably not _bad_ as combinations go, but Bellamy would use them as sides for two totally different meals. And that's the best of them. She seems to delight in using gatorade as much as possible, in sauces and glazes, once in _salad dressing_. She'll text him things like "out of milk can I just use cream mixed with water?" and "I only need one kind of vinegar, right? They're all basically the same" and no matter what she says, she seems to think he's saying yes.

"You haven't cooked for anyone else, have you?" he asks. He's taken to calling her after she sends him particularly concerning messages, which happens at least twice a week. 

The crush isn't going away; cooking nightmares seem to be a turn-on for him.

"I'm getting a lot better."

"You asked if V8 was a replacement for vegetable stock."

"It was on sale!"

"I'm just saying, you say _it didn't taste that bad_ and I don't really trust you. I want a second opinion from someone else who's tried your cooking."

"My roommate ate some leftover chicken and I think she's still alive."

"Wow, glowing endorsement."

"That's the point of food, right? It keeps you alive."

"Sure, Captain Holt."

"Obviously you just have to come visit. I assume you're going home for Christmas?"

"Yeah. I missed Thanksgiving so I figure I have to make Christmas. Spring break is still open."

"In March?"

"Yeah."

"That's so much time for me to plan an all-gatorade meal."

"All the greatest hits of your instagram together at last."

She snorts. "Like you have any idea what my instagram's greatest hits are."

"I'm assuming the balsamic vinaigrette you made with white vinegar and red gatorade has to be up there."

"I guess you'll find out over spring break."

It's early December, so break is months and months away. He hadn't even been planning to _do_ anything, just take a week off and relax. Of course he wants to see Clarke, but he always wants to see Clarke. He hadn't known how to just say to her, though, hadn't wanted to invite himself over where he might not be welcome.

Now it's all he can do to not book flights right away, to be cool and normal.

At least she can't see how much he's smiling.

"Yeah," he says. "I guess I will."

*

"So, I'm thinking I need to tell Clarke how I feel about her."

To his surprise, Roan's eyes narrow, and then he punches himself in the arm. "Ah, I'm not asleep."

"You have dreams about my love life? I didn't know you cared that much. I hoped you didn't care that much."

He waves his hand. "I dream about a lot of things. What changed your mind?"

"It's been more than six months and I'm still in love with her. After I graduate, I want to be where she is and I want to be with her. So I should say something."

"That's what I've always thought. Congratulations."

"Don't congratulate me, I haven't told her yet."

"Honestly, at this point I'm proud of you for even thinking about it. I thought you might have given up."

He probably would have, if he's honest. He knows it's not romantic, but if Clarke had graduated and they'd fallen out of touch, like he did with so many of his friends, he probably would have moved on. But not only have they not fallen out of touch, Clarke's been reaching out too, keeping him in the loop with her cooking like he keeps her on the loop with classes. They're both putting in the effort to not lose each other.

Hell, she's texting him redundant content just because he doesn't like Instagram. He could already get all of this stuff, but she sends it directly just to him so that he'll call her.

He thinks he really might have a shot.

"I just don't want to tell her over the phone, I guess. I want to make sure that once we're in the same place again, it's still good. Maybe I'm just really bad at reading tone over text."

"As always, I will be shocked if Clarke doesn't reciprocate your feelings before you've finished confessing them, but I assume it's more difficult for you."

Bellamy fixes him with a look. "Shouldn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Do you not bug Clarke about this? Why just me?"

"Clarke's no fun."

That does check out. Even her whimsical cooking is less fun and more terrifying. She's probably really shitty to gossip with.

"So, you're guessing but not sure."

"Even if I wasn't, she doesn't text me meal updates. I haven't talked to her since before graduation."

"Well, I'll let you know how it goes. I'm expecting you to hold me accountable if I don't tell her."

"I'll text you for daily updates."

"Terrifying, thanks."

Roan shrugs. "All your favorite people seem to terrify you."

It's hard to deny. "What can I say? I've got a type."

*

Clarke doesn't meet him at the airport because it takes forever to get there on public transportation, so she tells him to just grab a cab and she'll cover half the cost. It's nicer than bringing his stuff on a couple of different trains, but he can't help the waves of anxiety as he gets closer and closer to Clarke. It would have been nice to get over seeing her right away, to spend a long train ride talking to her, getting comfortable with her again. It was bad enough being on the plane, but now that he's in her city it feels like they should just be _together_.

Once the cab lets him off, though, he still hesitates. All this time and all this way and he's still not quite sure how to see her.

Then he takes a deep breath, marches to the door, and rings the buzzer.

She doesn't unlock the door but comes down herself, the sight of her knocking the breath out of him for a second. She doesn't look different, but she doesn't need to. It's not as if he wanted her to be different. She opens the door and pulls him into a hug and that's everything.

"Hi," he says, holding her close.

"Hi. Sorry I didn't come meet you."

"It's okay. The cab was a lot easier."

"Still. I feel like a bad host."

He makes himself pull away, gives her a smile. "Don't worry, it's the all-gatorade meal that's going to make you a bad host."

She laughs. "That was the other reason to not come get you. I could get started on dinner."

His stomach drops. "I figured that was later in the week. We aren't going out tonight? I'll pay."

"Nope."

She unlocks the door and he follows her up the stairs, trying to figure out what to say. "What are you expecting from me?" he finally asks.

"Sorry?"

"Honest reaction, or--"

She flashes him a smile over her shoulder. "I'm not expecting you to pretend gatorade rice is good, Bellamy."

It's a deliberate answer, for all her expression is easy, but she opens the door before he can formulate a response and he's hit with the overwhelming, mouthwatering scent of roasting chicken.

Clarke's cooking, and it smells _amazing_.

"Um," he says, and she grins. 

"You really don't follow my instagram, huh?"

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"No. But if you did, you'd know that I'm actually getting pretty good at the cooking thing. You're the only one who sees my gatorade experiments."

"You're doing real cooking," he says, brain still catching up. 

"Using the recipes you sent me, and then the Internet. I signed up for Hello Fresh, that was really helpful. It kind of sucked to cook for just myself, but I had you and instagram, so it worked out."

"Did you actually eat all the stuff you sent me?" 

"At least some of it. Honestly, I think it helped. Seeing how different ingredients changed the taste, what worked and what didn't. Honing my instincts, like you said."

"So gatorade rice made you a better cook."

She looks nervous for the first time. "I guess you're going to find out."

He offers to help, but she waves him off, tells him to relax while she finishes up. Instead, he wanders around the apartment, checking out the decorations, guessing what belongs to Clarke and what belongs to her mysterious roommate, and then settles against the counter, quizzing her on her job and the city, getting updates he mostly already have.

They really do talk a lot. It's nice.

"So, roasted chicken, what else? Mashed potatoes?"

She grins. "Potatoes and sweet potatoes. It's actually really good! It adds some good texture and flavor."

"Looking forward to it," he says, and she looks so happy he almost kisses her right then.

Of course, she did spend months planning an elaborate surprise about how she really can cook just to troll him, so she probably wouldn't mind if he _did_ kiss her.

But it can wait until after dinner. She worked so hard. And he's really excited to try everything.

Clarke doesn't really have a dining room table--the apartment is small and space is limited--so they take their plates over to the coffee table and settle in. Given the setting, it's not quite _adult_ , but it's a real meal, and an amazing one. Even the potatoes work.

"I can't believe you were holding out on me," he says.

"Deliberately deceiving you," she corrects. 

"For the big reveal?"

"Yup. As long as you never found my instagram, it was going to be fine."

"Is it actually _Clarke Cooks Crap_?"

She looks down. "No, it's _Cooking 101 with Cara_. Clarke's pretty distinctive, I didn't want anyone to know it was me unless I told them."

"So I couldn't have found the instagram even if I went looking for it, huh?"

"You could now."

There's something purposeful in her tone, like she's daring him, and he wants to, but--

"After dinner. And I'm cleaning up, since you cooked."

She smiles. "There's dessert, too."

"You really went all out."

"I'm really happy to see you."

"I'm really happy to see you too." He clears his throat. "Did I tell you I'm looking for jobs here after graduation?"

"You know you didn't."

"I didn't. I wanted to tell you in person."

"Like me and the cooking."

He has to smile. "Kind of, yeah."

"Any good prospects yet?"

They're done with food, so he fills her in on the research he's been doing on the places he's been looking for openings, the applications he's working on. There's no sign she's anything but thrilled with the news, and Bellamy lets himself--quietly, tentatively, slowly--start to believe that this could be his life. Living with Clarke here, making dinner and doing the dishes and talking about the little details of his life that don't make it into phone calls.

"What was the instagram again?" he asks, once the dishwasher is loaded and running. It seems more pressing than dessert; there's something on there Clarke wants him to see.

" _Cooking 101 with Cara_ ," she says. "The username is caracooks101."

"Cara with a C?"

"Yeah."

He plugs it into his phone, finds the account. The style is familiar--all of Clarke's awful meals are photographed perfectly, taking full advantage of her art minor--but the actual content is completely new, even knowing she was lying to him. She's made a lot, and all of it looks amazing. He scans a little, just taking it in, but then he scrolls back up to the top, where there's an image of what looks like today's meal, the chicken ready to go into the oven.

_Okay, wish me luck_ , the caption reads, when he clicks it. _B's coming over, so it's time to see if the way to a man's heart really is through his stomach. Which is shitty and heteronormative, but whatever. I'm bi, I can like a boy. And I'm hoping he likes chicken._

Clarke is watching him, nervous, and all he can do is laugh. "Roan's supposed to text me every day at two to ask if I've asked you out yet."

She laughs too, all relief. "That was your plan?"

"He can be very annoying."

"He can."

"I'm so in love with you," he admits. "I have been for years. I've missed you so much, I--"

She kisses him, which is nice for a lot of reasons, including, of course, that they're kissing, and she's warm and close and has apparently been sharing her food-based seduction plan on instagram for almost a year. She's been putting in so much effort he almost feels bad for not trying harder himself.

But he's got time to make it up to her.

"Are you ready for dessert?" she murmurs.

"Is that a euphemism?"

She bites his bottom lip. "Nope. I made red-gatorade popsicles. With real fruit flavors."

He collapses against her shoulder, laughing so hard he feels like he might never recover. "Fuck," he manages. "I love you."

"I know," she says. "So, dessert?"

"Please."

And somehow, it really is the best thing he's ever eaten. His girlfriend's got a gift.


End file.
